Behind the Mask
by Meatball42
Summary: Set in 'Dead Man Walking,' Tony looks back on his time with Ziva.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: This was supposed to be short, but it decides to take my fingers hostage, and y'know, there's not much you can do at that point. I literally got 20 minutes sleep last night, because I had three separate stories swirling around my head, so I eventually gave up and wrote this whole thing in about two hours. My first fic, so please don't crucify it. Also, I had to re-upload because I messed up a lot, so if it comes out weird, it's probably my fault.

Rating: K+. There's a bit of swearing, but nothing major. If it needs to be changed, tell me in a review and I'll fix it.  
Summary: Tony looks back on his time with Ziva as she waits with Lieutenant Roy Sanders. Pairings: Tony/Ziva  
Warnings: Really minor language, no explicitness whatsoever.

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'_Falling in love with a dying man?' 'The look on your face says you are.'_

That look… So vulnerable, caring, worried… Every word I tried to match to it didn't quite seem to fit. But there's Ziva for you, she doesn't fit in a box. She kept up a hard front, but every time I saw that look on her face it reminded me that the crazy ninja chick had feelings, real ones that I could never joke about.


	2. Chapter 2

I remember the first time I saw the expression on her face. It was that first time I met her, in the bullpen. She walked in like she owned the place, surprising me out of a… memory of Kate. Even though I was still broken up with guilt and loss about Kate, she made me smile, and laugh, and joke, and, I'll admit, drool a little.

Cargo pants! Of all the women I've met, and there've been a lot, let me tell you, none of them could pull off cargo pants. But on Ziva they looked like lingerie. It was just her. I was sucked into the game, but it didn't take her long to show that she wasn't like the ladies I was used to playing with. She topped every one of my comments, my jokes that usually make women blush, she even topped my GSM mag! It was a match made in heaven. Until reality decide to punch me in the face.

She didn't want Gibbs to kill Ari. She wanted to protect Ari. Protect the dirtbag who killed my partner, my friend. That snapped me out of my game.

The first time I saw that look on her face was when I told her I wanted him dead.


	3. Chapter 3

I only remembered the second time I saw that expression a few hours after it happened.

To be fair, I had some other stuff goin' on. Like, I don't know, trying to stop the bleeding from my face, or keeping myself from squealing in a very unmanly way as the emergency room doctor reset my broken nose. A few hours later, when I was a bit woozy on painkillers and Ducky's prescription of scotch, I went over the events of that day (and the night).

I remembered the concern and worry in her voice when I told her my plan. I could see part of her face, and I interpreted it as fear. 'Like she'd show fear,' I'd joked to myself. When I thought about it later, though, in the safety of my apartment, I realized that she had been afraid. For me.


	4. Chapter 4

I caught a glimpse again only a few weeks later. This time it was closer to pain.

I was just trying to get to know her a bit better, y'know? Like, 'Hey, new partner, what's your life like?' It was the perfect time, too. Gibbs couldn't get mad at us for goofing off, couldn't slap me (but not her) on the head and growl 'Get back to work!' We were stuck in a giant metal crate, for God's sake, what else could we do but talk (I have a good answer for that, but that's another story)? How was I supposed know she was that sensitive about her father?

That's the point, right, to figure out where all the touchy subjects are so you can avoid them in the future? It's not like it was a tough question, either, or a really personal one. 'First time you realized Daddy wasn't perfect?' She was laughing, then all of a sudden she's… That look. There was a warning mixed in there, might as well have been a neon sign, saying 'Don't talk about my father if you want to live.' Then when she moved away, and right when she though I couldn't see her the mask came off for an instant and I saw the pain.

I knew the feeling. I mean, look at my dad! But I've gotten comfortable enough (or jaded enough) to kid around, to pretend like it doesn't mean as much to me anymore. It does, of course. He's my dad. But I'm a grown-up, and I deal with it. I felt for her because she still believed in him, she still protected him in her mind from the knowledge of what he'd done. Still let her heart believe in the façade when her brain told her something else.

I remembered that moment and I didn't bring her father up again.


	5. Chapter 5

There were other times I saw her real feelings break through the tough shell she wears.

She talked about a friend of hers who'd had his head chopped of and sent through the mail. She missed him, I could tell, and I didn't press the subject.

She was surprised when she figured out the mystery of the man who hated her because she wore a Star of David. She felt sorry for hating him, because she didn't know his story, just like he didn't know hers.

The day we thought she had killed a boy in the elevator at NCIS. McGee and I didn't believe it, not really. We decided that if she wanted him dead, she would've done it when he was driving her 'down the wall.' But she thought we didn't believe her, that she would really kill a kid because he was being annoying. She dropped her shield that day.

I didn't see it the day Gibbs was blown up. She had a mask on the whole time he was unconscious. Abby noticed, but thought Ziva didn't care. She didn't realize that the tough Israeli was trying to avoid the feelings, to stop herself from trying to find an action she knew wasn't there. We all wanted to help Gibbs, her way was pushing through the pain to find his bomber.


	6. Chapter 6

From the minute I met Ziva, I knew she was out of my league. There was something about her walk, her voice, her air, that told the world there was no way a playboy like me was getting near her. She backed it up, too. A suspect tried to turn on the charm with her, she'd shut him down (while confusing the two idioms). I took it like a joke, like I was the only one allowed to act like that with her. I'd give them a teasing grin or a smart comment as they stared after her with a stupid look on their face.

I wanted her. I knew it, she knew it, the whole damn office knew. It wasn't anything surprising, I had a thing for most of the women who worked in, passed through, or breathed in the vicinity of my desk, but she was different. We became almost like friends, for a year, and that was close enough for both of us. Then things changed.

Gibbs went to Mexico. We all walked around like puppy dogs for days, too weak from the shock. Our boss was blown up, then he decided he was going to hitch a ride down to the ol' cantina with some grizzly bear of an ex-agent before he even had his memory back. I wasn't in the mood to play boss, and Jenny didn't push me. She was out of it too. But time marches on, and I had to get off my ass and do something.

Those few months, I grew up. I had a team of my own, a Probie to train (make that two) and a family to piece back together. That was when things changed between Ziva and me. I was the boss, and she was my senior field agent. We collaborated more, because we had more responsibility. We grew closer.

There were a few almost-dates, two almost-kisses. Both were interrupted by a call on my cell from dispatch. Both times, we ended up making awkward excuses to meet up at the office. Despite the discomfort we worked together better than ever. For once, we weren't two agents forced to pair each other, annoying the hell out of one another and begging to be separated like two schoolchildren. We were partners.

Then Gibbs came back.


	7. Chapter 7

I would've helped her. I would have thrown my career away to clear her name. I'd done it before, in Philly. A cop friend of mine had been framed for shooting some dope dealer, but I'd pressured all the informants I had, bullied the lab workers for faster results, and eventually handed over some of my anger to the dirtbag who set it up. I got suspended for two weeks, but my superior knew the circumstances and got the DA to let me off light. This was worse. I still can't figure out why she didn't come to me.

Ziva was framed for bombing two FBI agents and a federal witness. I didn't believe it for a second. I wanted to see her, and when I heard her voice from the number Abby gave me I almost crowed. I got to Gibbs' house as fast as I could without attracting suspicion. I was almost frantic. I _needed _to see her.

I stopped.

When did she become that important to me? When did that confused and betrayed tone in her voice make me want to hug her and tell her it would be okay? I decided to ignore it. I could figure out how I felt later, and Gibbs would sniff out any uncertainty I had like a hawk. Do hawks smell? It didn't matter, it was Gibbs, and I was in trouble.

I made a joke as I walked towards them, but I was trying to keep my emotions inside. She had that look. That sad, confused, little girl look that showed she was overwhelmed. I gritted my teeth and tried act normally. Maybe I didn't quite pull it off. I tried to be calm, Gibbs was there, and he would see if I was acting strange. Still, I had to say something. I tried to put all my feelings, the confusing new care for her, my anger at the people who'd tried to hurt her, the betrayal that she hadn't come to me, into those five, meaningless words. 'When I need to be.' And she stared that open, vulnerable look at me.

A few hours later that look was all I could see.

She was dead. Blown up. Little bitty pieces of her all over a field out in the middle of nowhere, where I should've been with her. I would never see her again.

That thought, that she was no longer existed, couldn't seem to get through my brain. It just bounced around, until I couldn't think straight.

When I saw her again I wanted to kiss her. The impulse struck me in front of Gibbs and McGee, and I stared at her because she was alive, she was there in front of me and she was so beautiful I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it before.


	8. Chapter 8

Gibbs has come back for good, and we've settled back into the normal routine.

Teasing, joking, laughing, occasional death threats, the whole she-bang. It's cool, and I'm glad that we were friends. I still feel differently about her than I did before her 'death.' I keep flirting, keeping the Probie's blood pressure up, getting head slaps from Gibbs, but I think she sees that something's different. Now I'm the one wearing a mask.

The last few months have felt like a sort of in-between time, when I could go for it, tell her how I feel and damn Rule 12 or I could give up and choke down some cafeteria food with Jeanne.


	9. Chapter 9

She's been here for hours. She hasn't left his side. Her iron coat, her defense from the world, is gone. You can watch the emotions flitting across her face. Anxiety, frustration, hopelessness, determination, compassion, fear… I can see them all as she watches the Lieutenant sleep.

Then, as a few minutes roll by, her face softens. Hope, caring, tenderness, and one more I dismiss as soon as I recognize it. It's not love. I know it's not. Why would she love him? She's known him for less than a day, when she's known me for years and I've never seen that look on her face. When she's looking at Roy Sanders her mask disappears like it was never there.

Content. She looks content, now. She's happy to just sit there and watch him. I drink in her face, try to memorize that expression which I've never seen before. I love that face. And he makes her happy.

Should I tell her how I feel? Or let her be happy? I know what I want, and I know that I'd give up anything to see that look on her face forever.

Even her.

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'_I hope he pulls through.'_

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**This was great to write! I actually feel worthy of my username now. I just made the account so I could have alerts for my stories, but now I feel like I've contributed something. **

**You spent all that time reading the story, surely you can spend another minute or so on a review? Even if it's just a 'Good story' or a 'Wow, that was crap!' I'll be glad to hear it.**

**Thanks for reading!**


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